onionbagblog

A pleasant lunchtime stroll up towards the top of the town, and a fine midday meal at The Flag. Living in lower Wivenhoe and it is all too easy to overlook local life north of the Cross.

The Flag has always signified for me the traditional starting point for the Wivenhoe Run as a student. It was a pub in which to warm up, before the real booze fest entered into all its undergraduate folly.

Which is such a shame really, seeing as though The Flag is a rather charming, traditional, old Essex pub. To pass through en route as simply the warm up act ahead of annoying the locals (and once again, please accept my sincere apologies, albeit twenty years too late) is a failure to appreciate what The Flag has to offer.

Being served up for our lunchtime treat was a hearty gammon, pineapple and chips for the gent, and then the ladylike chili with chips for the fragrant @AnnaJCowen. Oh, and a couple of pints of Guinness as well.

Chin Chin.

Both meals clocked in at just under £14; both diners left feeling incredibly satisfied, with an even slower stroll back down towards lower Wivenhoe.

We weren’t alone in enjoying the fine company of Landlord John and his helpful staff. A busload (blimey) of elderly citizens also popped in for a lunchtime treat. Seeing the staff take great care to talk and joke with the diners isn’t an experience you’re likely to find heading towards Colchester and beyond.

With the spring sunshine starting to shine through (seriously) on the stroll back down town, we stopped off at a front garden table sale. A bamboo shoot for £1, and then four strawberry plants for the same amount - quite a pleasant little find to complete the lunchtime away from the office.

Oh - and there is something just rather warming about finding an honesty box to take care of local business within Wivenhoe.

So yeah - The Flag has officially been taken off my mental list as a place to simply chase a Guinness with a double JD, ahead of the misguided misdemeanors elsewhere within Wivenhoe.

I’m working on my perception of the old Park Hotel as a place in which to fall asleep at the bar all afternoon. Something tells me that the splendour of the lovely Jardine might cause something of a booze blunder.